


Where I Come From

by Helasdottir



Series: The Three Fates [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Don't Ask Don't Tell, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Siblings, Emetophobia, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Iraq War, Minor Violence, Wartime Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 15:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18449384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helasdottir/pseuds/Helasdottir
Summary: On the anniversary of their deployment, Gavin and Tina promise each other they’ll stay friends after the war. Gavin has never wanted to believe something this hard in his life.Prequel to Pretty Tied Up, may be read independently.





	Where I Come From

**Author's Note:**

> This serves as a prequel to Pretty Tied Up, which is an ongoing long fic you can find under the same series here on ao3. I'd like to stress that Gavin and Tina are not meant to be portrayed as romantic.

**June 2003**

When Gavin Reed is recruited for a classified division of the army’s special forces, the last person he expects to meet is Tina Chen.

Operations such as the ones this new task force was designed to conduct require strength, stamina, and the durability of intensive training. As Gavin walks into the barracks to meet his new team, he sees what he expects – hard men and women, prepared to kill, looking as intimidating as Marines. Then he spots her. By the bed in the far corner of their sleeping barracks is a short woman of slender build, face calm but not rough, calmly folding her spare uniform.

She looks completely out of place.

Gavin forces himself to avert his gaze even as he takes the bunk nearest to her, dropping his bag down on the hard mattress. It feels wrong to be in a mixed barrack, but he knows they can’t be picky about the accommodations. Thinking about it, he realizes the women must be even more uncomfortable than he is, having to share their private space with strange men.

He isn’t given much time to dwell on the issue. Just as soon as the soldiers settle on their bunks, their commanding officer calls them to assemble. Major Fowler introduces himself and the goal of their operation during the fight against the mounting insurgence, then conducts a roll call to learn the names of the soldiers under his command.

The small woman is introduced as Tina Chen. Her posture is flawless and her voice shows no sign of doubt or vulnerability. Gavin begins to doubt she’s as frail as she looks, more so when the Major only nods and moves onto the next soldier.

They’re given the remainder of the day to rest and mingle, get to know each other before their lives are put on the line, and Gavin almost forgets about the woman until she drops down on her bunk and sighs.

“Major Fowler seems like a hardass,” she comments, eyes fixed on the ceiling but word clearly directed at Gavin.

“I guess.” He rolls onto his side on his own bunk, facing her. She has both hands tucked behind her head as she rests on her back, expression at ease. “He seems a lot calmer than my old CO. Didn’t yell as much on the first day.”

“You served before?” That get her to look at him, rolling over so her head rests on one forearm.

“Yeah. Afghanistan, twelve months,” he explains. “It was a hellscape. I don’t expect this time to be any better.”

“If it’s so bad, why are you here?” Her question is genuine, innocent. It’s obvious this is her first tour and Gavin feels a spark of curiosity – what ability could a raw recruit have to land her straight into special forces?

“It’s what I’m good at,” he answers honestly, shrugging. “You don’t know if you can handle killing people until you do it. Turns out I can. Have you ever…?”

“No.” Tina looks apprehensive, but that expression fades after a brief moment. “I just want to make a difference. I know how to fight, I’m good with a gun, I figured I could be of use to the country.”

“Chen, is it? You should probably know this: leave your idealism at the door, the only thing it’s good for is to make you puke your guts out when you blow someone’s head clean off.”

“That’s dark,” she frowns. “I guess you’re not wrong. Shit. Guess it’s too late to back out now, isn’t it?”

Gavin barks out a dry laugh. “Sure is. You better hope Fowler doesn’t send you into the deep.”

“Yeah?” Tina rolls her eyes. “I think I can handle myself. I don’t want to kill people but I’m sure as hell not letting them kill me, and I’m sure I could knock you on your ass faster than you could draw your gun.”

“Sure you could, Teeny,” he teases, laughing once more when she tosses her pillow at him. “We should spar when we get the time. Make good on that threat of yours.”

“Don’t call me that, asshole. I’ll beat you into the dirt.”

Between the intensive physical training and the repetitive meetings to solidify the plan for the squad, Gavin and Tina waited days for the chance to finally fight each other. In those days, an easy friendship began, with both tossing insults and challenges back and forth as Gavin tried to prepare her for the horror they would soon be thrown into.

He underestimated her. When they finally met on the training field, Tina used her size to her advantage and easily disarmed and incapacitated Gavin, sitting on his back as his face was shoved into the dirt.

“I told you,” she teased, earning a defeated groan from the veteran soldier.

**Early July 2003**

It’s the first reprieve they’ve had since it started. The entire unit is tired, firm faces melted into expressions of exhaustion as they finish setting up their temporary camp. Gavin finds Tina bent over behind a building, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the floor.

“Teeny,” he calls her by the name that ended up sticking, mostly to alert her of his presence in a friendly way. The smell hits his nose but it no longer bothers him. “You gotta get used to it.”

“Fuck, Gavin.” Her voice is rough from a throat torn by acid, light yellow drool dripping from her lips. “Shit.”

“I know.” Gavin places a hand on her upper back, firm and supportive. “You did good, Chen, you didn’t lose your shit in the thick of it. Make sure you get back into that headspace before we head out again.”

“I felt nothing. I pulled the trigger again and again and I felt nothing,” she coughs out. “Now it’s- I keep seeing them, every time I close my eyes. I smell the shit and the blood and-“ she heaves again, more yellow bile spilling from her mouth. There’s nothing else left to evacuate.

“I know,” Gavin repeats, rubbing his palm in circles over the camo of Tina’s jacket. “You get used to it. It’s fucking sick, wrong, but it’s them or us. You said you’re not letting them kill you, so you just gotta do it again. Until you stop thinking about their faces. In the end, they all blend together.”

Slowly, she stands and wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. Gavin notices her face is streaked with tears, but she’s not sobbing. There’s still some of that raw strength in her.

“You done?” he asks, dropping his hand back to his side.

“Yeah.” Tina swallows and grimaces at the taste, using her sleeve to wipe at her cheeks. “Thanks, Gav.”

“Come on, you need to eat – and hold it down,” he says, guiding her back inside. She follows wordlessly, clearly spent, and Gavin feels a surge of pride when she gags but doesn’t throw up at the first bite of solid food.

**August 2003**

Tina is tending to Gavin’s bloodied fist when Fowler storms in, pressing disinfectant into the tooth-shaped indentations over his knuckles because he’s too paranoid to let an actual medic see to his wounds.

“What the fuck was that about, Reed?” The Major’s voice is booming as he shouts the question, which is in fact more of an accusation. Gavin straightens his back.

“An asshole getting his come-uppance, sir,” he responds, unflinching, not the least bit apologetic.

“You assaulted a fellow officer.” Fowler glances to the other side of the barrack, where officer Cesare’s beaten face stands out even at a distance, after having most of the blood cleaned off him by one of the medics. “You can be charged for battery and bodily injury, and you’re not stupid enough to risk Court Martial for nothing. What set you off?”

“Cesare over there thinks he can wave his dick around without consequence.” Gavin glares at the man in question, somewhat disappointed he’s out of hearing range. “He needed to be put in his place. If anyone should be subject to Court Martial, it’s that fucking perv.”

“You broke his face because he came onto your girlfriend?” Fowler crosses his arms, noticing the way Tina’s hands twitch as she tries to restrain herself in the presence of her commanding officer.

“He wasn’t hitting on her. He cornered her and overpowered her; it was sexual assault.”

“Chen, is that true?”

“Yes, sir. Gavin was only defending me, although- he might have gotten carried away,” she admits, wrapping a thin bandage around her friend’s hand. “I can’t say I blame him.”

“That reaction was stupid and irresponsible. I might lose one of the finer members of this team because he can’t control his fucking temper.” Fowler shakes his head. “Are you going to press charges?”

“You can’t possibly take his side, sir!” Gavin speaks up again, affronted. “He’s a dirty bastard who tried-“

“Enough, Reed. I’m not taking his side.”

“No, sir,” Tina responds, lowering her gaze. “I do not have the evidence to convict him and I don’t wish to complicate the situation by entering a legal battle.”

“You’ll continue to serve alongside a man who assaulted you?” Fowler’s surprise is clear in his voice, which has lost some of that initial anger.

“I wouldn’t be the first woman to do so, sir.”

The answer, unexpected as it is, seems to knock the fight out of Fowler. He turns his attention back to Gavin as Tina starts to dab away the blood that covers his forehead.

“I admire your drive to protect your friend, but we don’t take justice into our own hands. You could have stopped at incapacitating Cesare, but instead you beat him to a pulp. If he presses charges, you’re in deep shit.”

“He won’t,” Gavin answers, hissing at the sting when Tina hits a particular open cut. “He’s not that dumb.”

“Neither are you. Don’t do that shit again, Reed, I can’t cover your ass forever. I’m putting a warning on both your records; you’d do well to stay the fuck out of trouble from now on. I’ll see what I can do about getting that shit off the team.”

“Thank you, sir.” Tina nods, looking at him for a moment before returning to the task of cleaning blood from Gavin’s face. She only speaks again after hearing Fowler leave. “You’re such a dickhead. I told you not to act out for my sake.”

“Teeny, that guy was going to rape you,” Gavin reminds her, only to get slapped upside the head.

“Like the Major said – just pulling him off me would be fine. You’re lucky if you don’t get suspended for this.”

“Fowler knows I wouldn’t compromise the team,” he insists, reaching up to grab her hand. “It’s gonna be fine. I don’t give a shit about my record, it’s not like I’m coming back. I just want to see this tour through without some douchebag taking advantage of you.”

“I can take care of myself,” Tina replies, pulling her hand away. After a beat, she smiles. “Thank you, Gav.”

“Count on me, Teeny.”

Gavin lays in bed with the worst headache of his life as Tina joins the rest of their unit for training. He’s almost asleep by the time the barracks fill up again, and when Tina joins him on the bed and rests her head on his chest, all he can do is tell her to mind his bruised ribs.

**Early September 2003**

With the rise of violent attacks by the various groups vying for power over the last month, Gavin and Tina face a lot more combat than expected after the collapse of centralized authority. They conduct raids on several locations suspected as bases or weapons storages for insurgent groups, spending most of their time on their feet with weapons in hand.

Tina has become cold about killing – she resents the need for it, but she understands her purpose and duty as a member of the team. They’re the best trained soldiers in the army, they have to execute their mission.

The few hours of downtime they get, Gavin and Tina spend together. She’s taken to sleeping exclusively in his bed, whether he joins her or not. After what Gavin did to Cesare’s face without sending ripples up the chain of command, no one else dares to mess with either of them.

It’s three in the morning when they return to base this time, and all they can do is change out of their uniforms and drop onto the mattress, this time facing each other on the bed. Gavin feels a strange pull, a tension in the air that isn’t usually present.

“Gavin,” Tina starts, sounding nervous as her hand lands on his forearm. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

“What’s with this shit all of a sudden?” he asks, more worried than anything. Of course he knows they’re best friends – she’s the closest friend he’s ever had, even though they’ve only spent five months together. “You sound like a teenage girl.”

“Don’t be an ass. I’m serious here. I just… why did you never try anything?”

“What the fuck?” Now that’s insulting. Gavin frowns and some of it must show in the darkness, because Tina sighs and drops her hand back onto the sheets.

“We’ve been sleeping together for three months and you never-“

“Do you want me to?” he asks, genuinely curious. That’s not the energy he picked up from Tina at all.

“No. I mean, I wouldn’t hate it, but I’m not really interested,” she explains, voice a little strained. “I just want to know why. Most guys, particularly out here, don’t have that restraint.”

“Well, shit. I can’t really say.” That is, if Gavin has ever known one, an understatement. He drops his voice to a whisper but his friend is too tired from the raids to pick up on the subtext.

“You can tell me anything,” she insists and he breathes a laugh, closing his eyes against the barrage of emotions that invitation provokes.

“No, I can’t,” Gavin insists, trying to remember what the proper words were. “It would be unacceptable to the high fucking standards of morale, discipline and unit capability that are the essence of the military. Or some shit.”

They both stop talking: Gavin is listening intently to the breathing and snoring of the rest of their unit, Tina is trying to understand what was said. Then it hits her.

“Oh. Holy shit, Gavin.” It’s a breathless, almost pained whisper.

“Yeah. Don’t- don’t make a big deal out of it, it’s bad enough as it is.”

Tina nods into the darkness, then presses herself close to his chest. “Okay.”

A knot forms in Gavin’s throat as he realizes she’s the first person he’s told his secret to, the first since he graduated high school and joined the military. And she accepts him, just like that – no questions, no probing, no judgement. Exhaling slowly, he wraps both arms around her and holds her tight.

**Late September 2003**

Gavin is no longer sure what day it is. They’ve been stranded for two nights in hostile territory, their provisions running low, the only way out guarded by trained men with enough weapons to cause some serious damage to their unit.

It’s not a smart plan. No one said they had to be smart. He needs to get his men out, and there is only one way: taking down everyone in their path. Everyone agrees with him. None of them want to die in this shithole, surrounded by enemies and starved, so they decide to push through using brute force.

Gavin goes ahead of the team, ducking behind walls and pillars between shots, thanking any potential higher power for the cohesive unity of his team. They cover him as he tears through enemy soldiers, winding through the corridors in a state of hyper focus. He pushes past fear, past exhaustion, past the pain of bullets lodging themselves in his vest. One bullet grazes his arm, opening a hole in his jacket that quickly soaks in blood.

He doesn’t know when the line blurred, bullets became scarce and he had to resort to hand-to-hand. He only remembers the knife going into a man’s neck, twisting it with a wet, disgusting squelch. The feeling of fists against his face, the resonating crack of bone, the taste of blood in his mouth.

He doesn’t remember collapsing, bruising his cheekbone as it hits the hard floor. All he remembers is the feeling that his plan worked.

He wakes up the next day in the medic’s barracks, his skull throbbing, red hot pain shooting through his body as he tries to move. Resigned to his fate, he tries to analyze his own injuries – cracked, possibly broken ribs. His nose is definitely broken. There’s a high probability of concussion, if the way his head spins and his stomach tightens is anything to go by. His hands feel raw and sore from hitting bone. His arm burns where he was shot, but it’s not the worst he’s ever had.

The medic only confirms his self-diagnostic, confining him to bed for the next week. It’s enough to make Gavin wish he were back out there, still taking blows from insurgent soldiers.

Fowler is the first to visit him. He praises his courage and determination, reminds him of his team’s loyalty, tells him how the men praised his endurance when it came down to that. Gavin knows he did a good job, but it’s the first time his commanding officer has outright praised him, so despite the guilt for those they lost, he allows himself to feel pride. He was the one who got them out.

Tina doesn’t come. Gavin wonders if she’s on assignment or if she’s mad at him, but no one will tell him, so he accepts it and sleeps most of the day. His sleep is plagued by the sound of screams and gurgling blood.

The sixth time he wakes, Tina is by his side. It’s dark, but he feels her calloused hands on his and it grounds him. He groans from the pain and that’s enough to bring her attention to his face.

“Since when are you a hero?” she asks, teasing but honest, squeezing his hand. It hurts. He doesn’t tell her that, the emotional comfort surpasses the physical pain.

“Shut your face, Teeny. I’m just- fuck, not dying in some ditch.” They both know it’s a front. Tina doesn’t point it out, though, she accepts his answer with the knowledge that Gavin cares for his team, all his team.

Gavin is back in the main barracks when, after a week and a half, the medic removes the splint that covers his nose. It’s red and swollen with a bump where the fracture happened, but the glaring difference is the cut that crosses the bridge diagonally. It’s ugly, it will heal ugly.

Looking in the mirror, Gavin sets his jaw and accepts that he was never that much of a catch in the first place.

**October 2003**

A letter comes for him. Tina’s been receiving letters from her family on a monthly basis and she writes back every time. Gavin is happy for her, but he feels a twinge of jealousy when he thinks of her healthy family dynamic.

He knows who wrote to him, he knows why, and he doesn’t want to read it. He tucks the letter under his pillow because he’s not strong enough to throw it out.

The unit insists on celebrating his birthday – Fowler even allows them to procure a cake. Gavin waves off questions about how old he is, what he got from his family, and the most common one: what he would do after the war.

Despite the invasive line of questioning, he’s relieved to be celebrated by his unit. His aggression and distance were now openly recognized as a front, a front many other soldiers also put up, and they know he has their backs.

They still have to face exercise drills and an obstacle course that day, but it feels easier, lighter. And this training, unlike bootcamp, does not involve a gas chamber.

Gavin forgets about the letter. They go on assignment and it stays under that pillow for another week, until they return and Tina drops onto the bed with enough force to dislodge things. She picks the letter up when she feels it against her shoulder, reading the name on it.

“Who’s Elijah Kamski?” she asks, looking up at Gavin.

“An asshat,” he replies, pushing her further to the middle of the bed so he can sit on the edge.

“Is he…?” Tina looks around. No one is paying attention, so she moves her eyebrows suggestively and causes Gavin to groan his disgust.

“Shit, no. Nothing like that. God, ew.”

“Sorry. Are you planning on opening it?”

“No.” Gavin leans over her small body, bracing his arm on the mattress on the other side of her waist. “The only reason that letter exists is some bullshit sense of obligation on his part.”

“Is he family?” Tina asks, thumbing at the seal.

“I guess. Closest thing I have to one, if the half-brother from your dad’s side chick is family.”

“You should read it. Maybe he just wants to talk.”

“Nah, Chen.” Gavin shakes his head, taking the letter from her and sliding it back under the pillow. “You don’t get it. Eli’s a fucking genius, he’s good with tech, the bastard graduated college at sixteen. Ever since then, the only thing he cares about are his fucking robots. Last time I tried talking to him in person he was going on about how his dream is to make robot slaves to do his chores or some fucked up Terminator shit like that.”

“Jesus,” she breathes out, processing that information.

“Yeah. I mean, he was just a broke little shit but he got a full scholarship and funding for his master’s degree, now he has enough money to wipe his ass with it.”

“I take it you don’t have the best relationship,” Tina starts, reaching for Gavin’s arm and tracing the line of his biceps. “But aren’t you the least bit proud of him for doing all that? I mean, he is your brother.”

“See, that’s the real shit. I’m proud of him, I just think he needs a reality check and a reminder the world doesn’t revolve around him and his stupid nerdy glasses.” Gavin pauses, realizing those are words he never thought he’d say out loud. Here he is, in the middle of a warzone, letting his deepest secrets out to someone he’s bound to part ways with after the return home. “Fuck.”

“Gavin,” Tina calls his attention, tapping her fingers against his skin. “Don’t overthink. It’s okay, your family’s messed up, that’s what you’ve got us for.”

“Yeah, like I’d trust these assholes with my issues.” He smiles crookedly and clicks his tongue. “You’re okay, though.”

**November 2003**

If anyone believed capturing the head of the former established government would further the process for peace, they were quickly proven wrong.

There’s no time to celebrate. Aside from the reports of various casualties throughout the country, there is the ever-present issue of insurgent powers battling for the position as head of state, defying the Iraqi Governing Council.

Gavin’s nose and arm are now adorned by pink scars, healed enough for him to get an idea of what they’ll look like if he survives the war. The deformity to his face still bothers him, but not in an active way, and that’s something he refuses to complain to Tina about.

Even if he wanted to complain, though, there would be no appropriate time for it. Iron Hammer brought with it an even more intensive routine of raids and interrogations, keeping the unit busy for the final months of the year.

**December 2003**

This is ridiculous. There’s a small plastic Christmas tree in the barracks and someone snuck Santa hats past Fowler, someone cut snowflakes out of A4 paper and taped them to the walls. The only good thing about the holiday celebration is the food.

It’s not fancy, it’s never fancy, but there is definitely a quality upgrade from their daily rations. Gavin can hear choirs singing as he bites into a medium rare steak and feels the juices coating his tongue, then follows that with a hearty scoop of mashed potatoes.

Every soldier in his unit received some form of Christmas card or letter from family members, leaving Gavin as the odd one out. When Jones asked what he got from his relatives, he simply shot back a _wouldn’t you like to know_.

**January 2004**

There’s a lull in activity. Like many other units, they are given a break to recover and regroup, double up on the effort to make new plans to counteract the surge of rebellions and terrorist attacks.

Gavin can’t help the guilt that rises in him every time they hear about a new bombing, a new shooting, something they could prevent if they weren’t resting. Of course, ‘resting’ is more of a technical term to describe the even more intensive training Fowler puts them through.

For the first few days, everything hurts. Then his body gets used to it and it becomes a competition: who can take down who, who’s the fastest, who gets through the obstacle course without a hitch, who lands more perfect hits during target practice.

At the end of each day, all they can do is collapse into bed and sleep, Gavin and Tina tangled with each other. Neither of them denies it when their fellow soldiers call them a couple.

**March 2004**

There was an ambush laid with one of their targets used as bait and they walked right into it. Thankfully, the insurgent forces weren’t as well disciplined and the mission was ultimately a success, but that doesn’t change the fact that Gavin is lying on an operating table with a bullet lodged in his stomach.

This time he had a choice and he asked not to be put under. The feeling of disconnect from the anesthesia is disorienting, but it’s nothing near the helplessness of not knowing what was done during forced unconsciousness.

The medics cut him open to remove the bullet. Most of their words don’t stick, but he knows he was lucky in avoiding any rupture to major organs. They sew him back together and keep pumping him full of drugs.

He’s kept in the medical barracks for days and sleep is near impossible. It’s all night terrors and jolts of adrenaline that leave him gasping for air, overanalyzing everything. That’s why he likes combat more than downtime: during a fight, you don’t have time to think. Now he has no choice but to let his brain do him dirty.

When he’s finally discharged and allowed back to his own bunk, he finds Tina curled up there with her hand tucked under the pillow, holding the now crumpled envelope Gavin never had the courage to throw out. He limps slowly towards the bed and lowers himself with a breathless moan of pain, lightly shoving Tina to the side so he can lie down.

She holds him. They don’t talk.

The hours pass and it seems like an eternity until everyone else is asleep, but Gavin’s mind continues racing. He wonders what his parents would think of him now, if they’d still be disappointed, if Elijah would give a shit about him having yet another near-death experience. Then, between the snores and sleep-addled mutters of their fellow soldiers, a whisper.

“Gavin.”

“Yeah?” he asks, opening his eyes to the darkness of their barrack. A silent beat. No one else is awake.

“Don’t you feel… lonely?” The vulnerability in Tina’s voice is uncharacteristic. Gavin’s usually the one struggling against all odds to keep himself together, he never stopped to think his friend might share some of his concerns.

“Yeah,” he replies honestly. “It sucks.”

“I know some of the other officers… you know,” she trails off, but the implication is clear.

“Shit’s different outside our unit. Can’t risk it with these guys, we need the team to work.”

“Yeah,” Tina says, but it comes out uncertain, her voice wavering.

She’s tucked against Gavin’s side, one of his arms wrapped around her. Unthinking, he traces her ribs over the soft material of her shirt and feels her shiver.

“We could-“ he starts, then swallows. “It’s not exactly allowed, but it’s better than what I’m wired for.”

“No, I couldn’t do that to you.”

Tina. Open, respectful, caring, ever protective Tina. A good shot, even better at hand-to-hand, always knocking Gavin down a peg when he gets arrogant. She’s not his type – far from it – but she’s his friend and they’re lonely and touch-starved, and he doesn’t see the harm in betraying his biology for a night when so many soldiers betray much more.

“We’d be doing it together.” It’s still hard to get the words out. “I’m not- I mean, it’s just another body. As friends.”

Slowly, almost reluctantly, her head moves against his chest. It’s a nod.

**April 2004**

They all knew the quiet was too good to be true. The riots and coordinated attacks escalated and things only seemed to get worse. The Marines were sent in to do most of the heavy lifting, but Gavin’s unit was sent on specialized missions to sabotage enemy bases and equipment, and gather intel through the interrogation of rebels and deserters.

Gavin himself was not on these missions. He was still not cleared for active duty after being shot. As soon as he recovered enough to work, Fowler put him on cleaning and kitchen duty, which at least gives him some reprieve from his overactive mind.

It’s harder to sleep without Tina by his side, but everything else has gotten easier since they started finding comfort in each other. It relieves stress and allows him to focus on pleasure for once, even if it’s not something he ever would have thought himself doing.

When she is in the barracks and there’s nowhere else to be in the middle of the night, they try their best to be quiet. It usually ends up with them on their sides, rocking together with Gavin’s mouth pressed against her clothed shoulder and his hand over her lips to muffle any sound that might escape.

If anyone hears them, they don’t let it show.

**June 2004**

The successful transfer of power helps the violence die down in parts of the country and Gavin allows himself to hope for the end of the conflict, even though he knows better. Unless he establishes himself at home, he’ll be back in another year.

They still have missions to carry out, most of them further north than usual, but there are still plenty of suspects to string up and question. Even the leaked information on the mistreatment of prisoners by the army doesn’t stop them from using forceful methods to extract information.

On the anniversary of their deployment, Gavin and Tina promise each other they’ll stay friends after the war. Gavin has never wanted to believe something this hard in his life.

**September 2004**

Weeks of violent fighting culminate in the loss of life for several military personnel and civilians in the path of the militia. Gavin hasn’t slept more than three hours a night through all of this, spending most of his time crawling through enemy territory with a gun in his hands and the rest of it in a panic about doing just that.

It’s all so overwhelming he almost forgets that fifteen months have passed. Fifteen months mark the end of Tina’s time overseas. He only realizes this when he sees her packing, taking down the few personal items she had set up between their bunks. It feels like a punch to the gut.

“Write to me,” she says, and it comes out like an order. “Tell me when you’re coming home, I want to be there.”

Gavin goes to hug her instead of answering, and the hard shove to his chest brings a smile to his face.

“Promise me.”

“Calm the fuck down, Chen.” Gavin pulls her close and presses a kiss to her head. “I’ve already promised.”

He doesn’t cry when she leaves. He misses her as if a part of him has been torn away, but he refuses to cry.

**October 2004**

A letter comes for him. He doesn’t open it.

**December 2004**

Fallujah was hell on earth. Gavin comes out of it with shrapnel in his thigh and a nice, fresh stab wound to join the collection on his torso. He was set to stay another two months, but his dedicated service and impressive collection of injuries earns him an early trip home.

He writes Tina first, informing her of the time and date of his flight. Then, as an afterthought, he writes to Elijah. Maybe he’ll care.

The closest to comfort Gavin has come in the last three months is on his last day, when each remaining member of his unit hugs him goodbye. The feeling of warm, firm bodies against his gives him the strength he needs to face thirteen hours on an airplane with nothing but his insecurities.

Going through customs is easy, he has almost nothing to declare. What’s not easy is the silence, the waiting, the movement of civilians who seem to be comfortable in their day-to-day lives despite the conflict going on all around them. Gavin doesn’t know how they ignore the screams.

He boards the plane with one bag in the baggage compartment and his backpack slung over his shoulder, two crumpled envelopes in his hand. It takes him four hours to find the courage to open them.

_Happy birthday, Gavin. Come home safe._

That’s all the first one says. With a resigned sigh, he opens the second one.

_Happy birthday, Gavin. Come home safe._

Gavin laughs dryly. Of course. After all this time, his brother couldn’t bother writing a more personal message – no, he only copied and pasted the same thing onto a new card. If that isn’t indicative of Elijah’s amazing people skills, he doesn’t know what is.

The people sitting beside him cast strange glances his way, but no one stares. Gavin shoves the open letters into his backpack and leans back in his seat, watching the clouds through the small circular window.

He sleeps two hours on the plane.

Elijah doesn’t meet him at the airport. Gavin almost – almost – allows himself to feel disappointment. Then he spots the small figure in the crowd, dressed in civilian clothes, holding a sign with his name on it. The grin that takes over his face is crooked and wide, completely out of his control as Tina drops her sign and runs into his arms.

“Shit, Teeny, I missed you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I took liberties with the routine of special operations soldiers and the fact it's a mixed group of men and women (that only became more common later on).
> 
> Find me on tumblr @hassumccoy or @daughterofdeath and on twitter @xhelasdottir.


End file.
